


absolution

by ShroomShake



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Catholic Guilt, Demon/succubus x priest au, F/M, Femdom, Oral Sex, Smut, idk what im doing tbh, no beta we die like Glenn, religious themes baby!!, somewhat inspired by Duma and witches from FE Echoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:33:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23098630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShroomShake/pseuds/ShroomShake
Summary: Demons have been spotted across Fódlan, their powers and intentions unknown and unpredictable. Seteth, lonely and devout, feels himself falling from grace in his demon's warm embrace.(Demon/priest AU, concepts loosely inspired by Duma and witches from FE Echoes)
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Seteth
Comments: 15
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooo here is some setleth content! Ngl I was super h*rny for some demon/priest content so :-)  
> My ideas here are definitely inspired by the concept of witches from Fire Emblem Echoes.  
> EVENTUAL SMUT BE WARNED.  
> Thanks for reading! c:

* * *

His loneliness always rose with the moon. 

Much like the moon controlling the tides, so too did Seteth find himself to be a puppet on the strings of loneliness. In the cathedral, he prayed alone near the altar, only slightly comforted by the peek of the night sky through the stained glass. He prayed softly to the goddess, the mother that had left their world so long ago. The flow of time was cruel. He was still alive, kept afloat only by his beloved daughter-his entire world. 

The many years he had seen did little to lessen the pain of losing his wife. He closed himself off from the world for a time, hiding himself and Cethleann away to protect her as she slumbered and healed her wounds from the war. There wasn’t any time to think of himself, and he was just as well off for it. As long as he could make it through the nights of solitude, his relatively peaceful days were worth living. 

The sole worshipper in the monastery’s cathedral, Seteth recited prayers from the Book of Seiros and offered his own to the goddess before the altar. A soft whisper halted him as he asked the goddess to ease the pain the nights brought him. 

The whisper came again, the words indistinguishable. Seteth remained silent, noticing how the voice did not echo in the openness of the cathedral. 

“Hello?” he said quietly, timidly. His feet were planted at the altar; he couldn’t distinguish where the whisper had come from. Could the goddess perhaps be finally answering his prayers? 

To his right, he noticed a face in the shadows, hiding behind the saint statues. 

“Cichol…” the whispering came again, matching the movement of the silhouette’s lips. 

“Mother?” he responded, immediately feeling foolish for entertaining the hope of the goddess’s second coming. 

“I’m afraid not,” said the shadow, her voice clear and distinct from the otherworldly whispers she spoke in just moments before. “I may not be who you were hoping to see, but you are exactly who I was looking for.” 

Seteth could have swore the woman’s hair was seafoam green when he first laid eyes on her, but the light revealed it to be a dark indigo blue. Her unassuming white slip gown contrasted her hair and deep blue eyes, which stared directly into his. The woman’s face was elegantly beautiful. Yet, he felt a chill as she walked toward him, a chill that screamed at him to run away.

“I-I did not realize that anyone else was present this late at night. Is there anything I can help you with?” he said nervously. 

“Perhaps. I think there’s a lot I can help you with, too,” she said, devoid of emotion. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. As the woman drew closer, Seteth glimpsed into her narrow golden eyes-unnatural, unnerving, inhuman. Weren’t they blue before? 

He remembered reports of a rising threat in Fódlan. Those who pledged themselves to the fallen King of Liberation, Nemesis, were said to gain otherworldly power in exchange for a sacrifice. Those who subscribed to such practices were dubbed to belong to the new “Church of Liberation”. Seteth recoiled from her outstretched hand. 

“Ah, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she said. Blinking, her irises faded from the catlike yellow to a dark blue hue once more. Surely his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him? 

“Not at all,” said Seteth. He quickly became flustered as he studied her enrapturing gaze more closely. A ray of light filtering through the stained glass of the cathedral captured his attention.

“Oh, look at that,” she mused nonchalantly. “Looks like morning is here. I’ll let you be on your way,” the woman disappeared behind the saint statues. 

“Wait, I-” Seteth started after her, but she had disappeared as if into thin air. He looked back to the sunlight bleeding through the windows. It felt as though only minutes had passed-how could it already be morning? Seteth hurried back to his own quarters to freshen up for the day, wondering if the night had been nothing but a dream. 

~~~~

The day dragged on as exhaustion overtook him from the night before-his only clue that it hadn’t been a dream. During his sermons, he uncharacteristically faltered and stumbled over his words. He couldn't shake his thoughts of the woman from the night before, and he didn’t know why. Was it her voice? Her eyes? Her hair? Her-

Seteth shook himself away from such thoughts as he stood at the altar, silently shaming himself for disgracing the home of the goddess with his sinful thoughts. 

“Brother!” Flayn’s familiar voice brought peace to his mind.

“Hello, Flayn,” he greeted warmly. 

“Say, I was wondering-when you’re done, would you care to fish with me at the pond?” she asked excitedly. 

“Ah, I’m sorry, Flayn. There’s still much more for me to attend to today. How about I cook dinner for you tonight to make up for it?” Seteth offered. 

“Aw, okay. I thought you were supposed to be free the rest of the day,” she said. 

“Yes, I was. But, things unfortunately came up. I’m sorry,” he replied.

“I suppose that is how it must be. I shall see you later for dinner then. Farewell, brother!” she said, waving goodbye. Concluding his prayers by beseeching the goddess to forgive him for the sin of lying, Seteth headed in the direction of the library. 

Materials concerning the budding Church of Liberation had been banned for public access by the archbishop, cited as blasphemous and sensitive information unfit for the eyes of believers. As her right hand advisor, Seteth had access to all forbidden material for review.

They had only the most basic understanding of the phenomenon. From an unknown origin, people began to sacrifice themselves in the name of Nemesis, the King of Liberation. Reborn from the ashes of the mysterious sacrificial flames like a phoenix, such individuals found themselves with new power-at the cost of their humanity.

The cases of these individuals, dubbed ‘demons’ officially by the Church of Seiros, were isolated at first. The threat had been growing slowly but surely, however, and demon sightings had occupied much of the Knights’ time. He opened an investigative journal, penned by a private researcher from outside the church.

> **_“We have found these demons to derive their power, and subsequently their very life force, from certain emotions. For example, anger or passion can intensify a certain demon’s power. Some have theorized that the emotion most present at the time of an individual’s sacrifice becomes their fuel as a demon, but this theory is based purely on speculation._ **
> 
> **_Demons show no evidence of deriving their power from crests, but can display similar boons to crests, such as superhuman magical or physical strength. These life forms have also displayed abilities of which the like have never been seen in recorded history. Teleportation, shapeshifting, and time manipulation have been counted among these. For-”_ **

Seteth looked away from the walls of text, feeling overwhelmed. 

~~~~

Seteth spent his supper with Flayn as distracted and lost in thought as he had been the entire day. Chalking it up to sleep deprivation, he retired to his quarters for the night, hopeful for a fresh start and a clear mind in the morning. 

But sleep did not offer him its comforting embrace. He lied awake, sickening himself with thoughts of the phantasmal woman from the cathedral-who, for all he knew, could very well have been a demon. 

_He wanted to see her again._

Seteth laid on his back, crossing his palms over his heart. 

“My goddess, who watches over me from her kingdom above. I beg once more for your forgiveness, for I have sinned. Deliver me from my wordly shortcomings so that I may be worthy of your grace,” he prayed softly to himself.

“How noble.” The voice shook Seteth from the trance of his prayers.

“Y-you!” he stuttered, sitting up in his bed.

“I never got to tell you my name. Please, call me Byleth,” she said, continuing to stand in the corner of the room. 

“How did you get in here?” he asked carefully and quietly. She shrugged. 

“You left your heart open, I guess,” she said. 

“What?” 

“Nevermind. So, you wanted to see me again?” she said, drawing nearer to the bed.

“I never said that,” Seteth replied. 

“But I could feel it,” she said, softer.

She donned the white slip gown from before, but this time, Seteth was painfully aware of how it seemed to hug every curve and dip of her frame. Byleth sat at the edge of the bed, watching expressionless as Seteth backed up as far as he could.

“I don’t understand why you’re so afraid of me,” she said. Trying to decipher her intentions or feelings from the tone of her voice was impossible.

“You aren’t human,” said Seteth bluntly.

“Neither are you,” she quipped.

“I suppose that is true,” said Seteth, not bothering to ask how she knew so much about him.

“That doesn’t answer my question, then,” Byleth said, remaining emotionless.

“If you’re a demon...then I can’t allow you near me. I cannot disappoint the goddess…” Seteth mumbled, his eyes wandering from her eyes down to her lips.

“Please be honest with yourself. You _knew_ her. You know to deny yourself what your heart desires isn’t what she would want for you,” said Byleth, slowly crawling on all fours. 

He wondered what Sothis would say about him entertaining a demon in his bed. What would his _wife_ say? Shutting his eyes tightly, he held back tears as he realized he could not remember either of their faces, their visages instead being replaced by Byleth’s expressionless stare.

She slowly crawled up to him, straddling him on all fours. Her palms came to rest on either side of his head, and he could feel the sharp tips of her fingernails ghost over the edge of his cheek. Breaking into a cold sweat, he looked up into her eyes, and her beautiful stare ensnared him. 

“Be honest with yourself,” she repeated quietly, leaning down agonizingly slowly. Her chest came to rest upon him and he felt hot pressure throughout his entire body. He was ready to explode from the tension as her forehead touched his, his heartbeat a ticket counting down to his demise. 

“Do you want me? Cichol?” she said, barely above a whisper. 

Seteth gasped, shocked and stimulated by the sensual way in which she uttered the name he abandoned ages before. Byleth took the opportunity to capture him in a passionate kiss, holding his face in her hand. Sloppy at first, Seteth melted into her touch, branding the warmth of her tongue into his memory, so that he would never forget the pleasure of his sin. 

She reached down with her free hand and slipped it under his nightshirt, tracing the scars along his skin with her finger. Seteth held a death grip on the bunched-up blankets in his fists as a storm of conflict raged within him. He didn’t want to pull away. 

“M- _MPH!”_ he grunted as her wandering hand slipped down to his stiffening member. Her palm merely brushed against him, but her touch was euphoric. 

A knock at the door jolted him away from the kiss. He turned his attention away from Byleth and toward the door. 

“Father…? Are you quite alright? I heard something..” came Flayn’s timid voice. 

“I-I’m fine! Just a nightmare,” he answered weakly, his voice hoarse. 

“Do you want me to come in?” Flayn asked, her sweet voice full of concern. Seteth absentmindedly felt the weight on his chest vanish. 

“No! It’s okay, my dear. Please, go back to bed,” said Seteth. 

He turned back to Byleth-but she wasn’t there. He looked wildly around the room to no avail. She was gone. 

Tucking himself back under the covers, he allowed the tears that fell to wash him away into a dreamless sleep. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay HERE IT IS I don't know what else to say /)o(\ *hides*  
> There's more smut to follow in the next chapter, which I expect to be the last! I hope y'all enjoy this little brainworm of mine hehe

* * *

The morning sun was harsh, as though the light shone on him to expose his shortcomings. Seteth couldn’t stop thinking of Byleth. Through his prayers, sermons, paperwork, and seminars, she was all he thought of. Walking through the monastery halls, his mind played tricks on him. Mistakenly glimpsing her face in the shadows, he felt a pang of disappointment when he found it wasn’t her. He prayed the goddess would deliver him from his torment soon, lest he crumble under temptation. 

Seteth sat with Rhea for a short briefing on donations to the Central Church, documenting them in detail. 

“We have seen quite an influx in contributions for the month,” said Seteth. 

“Unsurprising. The people of Fódlan are relying on the Knights of Seiros to protect them from growing threats,” Rhea responded, not looking up from her mountain of paperwork. 

“I see…” he said quietly. 

“On a related note, I would ask you to continue to monitor the information flowing through these sacred grounds, Seteth,” Rhea said softly. “It is my hope that we quell this ‘Church of LIberation’ movement before any believers get too curious about them.” 

“As you wish,” he said compliantly. “So...I assume the risk has become great enough to dedicate resources to it?” 

“Of course. Even if they were not causing direct harm, we cannot allow those who would affiliate with the King of Liberation to disgrace the goddess so heinously. These demons and their followers disrupt and disrespect the goddess’s natural order. Power not derived from her grace and bounty is sinful,” Rhea preached passionately. Seteth felt the sting of her words on his conscience. 

“I agree, Archbishop. I shall continue to do my part,” he said dutifully. Dismissing himself, Seteth escaped the stuffy office as quickly as he could.

* * *

Crouched by the water’s surface, Seteth journaled by the fishing pond under the moon. Penning a letter to his wife that would never reach her, he hoped to find some escape from his consuming thoughts. The sick feeling in his stomach only grew as the night dragged on, however. He knew that the night brought _her_ with it. What was that churning feeling in his stomach? Dread, anxiety, anticipation, longing? He decided all of those feelings to be true.

“Hello.” 

He recognized the voice behind him, though this time he was not startled. He tucked his pen away in his notebook. 

“Byleth,” he said simply, standing to face her. 

She looked much the same as their previous encounters, and he was once again taken by her loveliness. He told himself to run away. To do anything else would be enabling the situation. She was a nightmare, and at the same time, too good to be true. 

“You look terrified, still. I suppose that’s my fault-I apologize for coming on so strongly last time,” said Byleth. He let an eternity of silence settle between them.

“...Perhaps I was mistaken after all,” said Byleth. 

“W-wait!” Seteth called out when it looked like she was about to leave.

“Yes?” 

“I...how do I even know you’re...real? How do I know that my old mind is not playing tricks on me?” Seteth asked, embarrassed by his shaking voice. 

“Well…” she trailed off, slowly inching her way toward him. Seteth felt frozen in place. 

She grabbed his wrist, and the touch sent tingles through his body. Guiding his hand with her own, Byleth traced his fingers up her arm-her skin was soft with the faintest hint of peach fuzz on her pale forearms. His hand came to rest upon her cheek, smooth but icy to the touch. 

“Does this feel real?” she asked, and Seteth could feel the tips of his ears grow hot. He was too flustered to answer. 

Seteth’s hand moved on its own, no longer needing Byleth to lead him. He ran his fingers through her hair-it was wild and course, yet still endearingly pretty. The deafening yells of guilt in his head that hindered him melted away. 

“Does it feel real?” she asked again, leaning into his touch as he ran his hands back down her arms and over her cheeks again. 

“Yes…” he breathed out.

Byleth stepped back for a moment, and that moment was enough for Seteth to long once more for her touch. In one fluid motion she lifted her dress over her head, rendering herself completely nude. Seteth’s entire body felt aflame. His breathing hitched as his hands were guided to her breasts. _How long had it been?_ The dip of her waist, her ample chest, her slender tummy, her smooth thighs-Seteth wanted to remember exactly how it all felt. She brought his hand between her legs-it was slick and warm. He was paralyzed. 

“Cichol…” she whispered in his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck. He turned his head away for a moment to gather himself, feeling ready to crumble to pieces under her thumb. 

He caught a glimpse of himself on the water’s surface. In his distorted reflection, he saw the face of a weak man. A man who could not resist pressure or temptation, who failed his wife and child time and time again, and who had sinned against the heavens was staring back at him. Instinctively he pulled back from Byleth, pushing her away. Sprinting away from the docks in no particular direction, he was desperate to escape from her alluring gaze. 

Seteth returned home as quietly as he could; Flayn was surely in bed asleep already. Out of breath, he tiptoed to his bedroom and tried to suppress his panting. Like every night, he recited a pious prayer to the goddess as he laid himself down to sleep, but the desperation and repentance made the night especially unique.

* * *

Morning came, and Seteth began the day as he did every day. Awaken, pray, freshen up in the washroom, dress, and gather his things for work. On his desk, he found the journal he could have swore he forgot at the docks. Holding it close to his heart, he was grateful that no one else would be able to read the words meant only for his wife and the goddess.

A slip of paper fell from the pages. Puzzled, Seteth picked it up off the ground and read the contents.

> _It seems I got too carried away. Again. I’m sure it's wishful thinking to hope you’d give me a third chance. A day’s trip north of Garreg Mach is an abandoned village near a forested area. I’ll be waiting for you there. I’ve included a little map for you. If I don’t see you within fifteen days, I promise I won’t bother you ever again._
> 
> _-Byleth_

His heart raced from her words. Running his calloused fingertips over the words on the note, he admired the charm of her scribbly handwriting. Fifteen days. Fifteen days and he would be free of her torment. To be free of her temptation was all Seteth had prayed for since the night she first appeared to him. Why, then, was he overcome with sadness? The same bittersweet taste of solitude settled on the tip of his tongue as did on so many nights alone. Was another eternity of heartache sufficient enough payment to appease the goddess? He always strove for piety, dutifulness, modesty, morality-all qualities essential to upholding the model of grace within the church.

But according to whom?

 _“What would she really think?”_ he remembered Byleth’s words on the first night in the cathedral. At the time, he couldn't think of the answer.

The years erased the image of the goddess, whom he once called “Mother”, from his mind into obscurity. Time left him with no lucid memories of Sothis, but he could still clearly hear the lullabies she once sang; the lyrics always fell on his ears with a soothing voice. The voice not of a vengeful goddess or a judgmental deity, but of a loving mother wanting peace and happiness for her child.

“Father! We are going to be late!” Flayn called out softly from beyond the door. 

No time to dwell on it. Seteth shoved his belongings into his bag and rushed out the door with Flayn. 

* * *

Seteth knew on the first day what his heart desired, but days passed and he remained at the monastery. He had a horse prepared on the eleventh night, but hours passed as he sat alone in their home, listening to Flayn’s gentle breathing. 

She had fallen asleep on the small sofa, a book laying on her chest as she snored softly. The sight of his sleeping daughter was angelic and pure, but remembering her centuries of slumber after the War of Heroes, Seteth also found the sight unnerving and nearly haunting. It was all for her. As long as his darling Cethleann was safe and content, everything was worth it. With the departure to see Byleth, Seteth had no intention of abandoning her. The goddess, nor himself, would ever forgive him if he left her. But surely the heavens could afford him just a few days of companionship. He penned Flayn a note announcing his short trip and left it on the table beside her, packed his things, and slipped silently out the door. 

* * *

Byleth’s story of an abandoned village north of Garreg Mach turned out to be all too true. The ransacked houses and debris-filled streets was an eerie sight. It also saddened him, to see a shell of a place once, no doubt, filled with bustling life. 

One house stood out; through its window he saw candlelight cut through the evening light. 

“...hello?” he said meekly, cautiously opening the door. Nobody was inside. 

The furnishings and belongings inside appeared well-kept and used. It was no doubt Byleth’s dwelling. 

“Byleth?” he called out. No reply. 

He stood awkwardly in the small cabin, quickly realizing what a fool’s errand his trip was. Figuring himself no better than a schoolboy, he chastised himself for allowing lust and overexcitement to control him so. As he turned around to leave, a small, framed portrait on the table caught his eye. 

It was Byleth, with a man he did not recognize. Her expression was blank and stoic, while the man beside her grinned widely. The two were dressed simply in worn clothes and simple armor. 

Curious, Seteth looked around the room even more. He found an old notebook; its leather cover was damaged and worn. Looking from side to side, Seteth opened the journal to yellowed, tattered pages, feeling only slightly guilty at the breach of privacy. 

> _3rd of the Red Wolf Moon_
> 
> _We’re in dire straits. Business has been so barren. Even during peacetime, we always found luck in territories ruled by lazy nobles. It was easy work too: rounding up ragtag teams of stupid bandits, apprehending petty thieves. Being a mercenary used to pay off, but now I am not so sure._
> 
> _8th of the Red Wolf Moon_
> 
> _Two mouths to feed is two too many. By and I have not a piece of gold to our names now. At this rate, I fear she’ll have to take to the streets at night for work. It pains me so, but there is no other option. Why won’t the goddess answer my pleas?_
> 
> _15th of the Red Wolf Moon_
> 
> _The thought of Byleth spending the night in another man’s bed is enough to make me retch. If only I had something of value to sell, or any skills other than wielding a sword. I am a complete and utter failure._
> 
> _30th of the Red Wolf Moon_
> 
> _I’ve been gathering more information on this so-called ‘Church of Liberation’ that seems to be taking over. Folks are quick to call it blasphemous and evil, but if nothing else, I think it could be our ticket out of the gutter._
> 
> _4th of the Ethereal Moon_
> 
> _Let the wretched goddess be my witness. My Byleth shall spend not another night more having her body and dignity used, degraded, and spat on. Soon, she will rise from the ashes and pull us from the depths with her newfound power._

“It’s rude to snoop around you know.” 

Startled, Seteth quickly shut the journal and looked to see Byleth lounging on the bed. She wore a white silk chemise; it was essentially nothing more than a flimsy piece of fabric barely concealing her body. But her face, normally vibrant and alluring, was dull. Although still objectively beautiful, her eyes were dark and sunken in, as though she hadn’t slept in days. 

“You’re right, I-I apologize,” Seteth stammered, frozen in place before the desk. 

“I suppose it does save me some trouble of explanation, though. So I don’t mind too much,” she said nonchalantly. 

“So it’s true, then, as I suspected all along. You are-“

“Yes, it's true. I am, what you lovely churchgoers have dubbed, a demon,” Byleth confirmed. 

“I see...I didn’t expect it had happened that way,” he said. 

“What way? Being sacrificed in our own bed, with a knife to my breast and a circle of fire around me? I didn’t expect it either,” she said bitterly. It was the first time Seteth had seen any sort of expression of emotion from her. And although her words were laced with venom and regret, Seteth found it comforting, assuring, to see a semblance of humanity from her. 

“I...I am sorry. I do not know what to say,” he said. 

“At any rate, I’m really happy to see you. I did not expect you to come,” she said. 

“I did not expect to, either,” he replied. 

“So why did you? Won’t you be excommunicated by the church if they found you out?” she asked, rolling over on the bed to lay on her stomach. 

“I thought about what you said, that first night. About what the goddess herself would truly think, truly want for me. And I found my answer,” he said. 

“I see.” 

“But I have no intention of staying. I apologize if you perhaps expected more from me,” he added. 

“That's fine. I’d be foolish to hope for anything more,” Byleth said. 

“But I have to ask...why me?” Seteth asked the question that had hung in his mind since they met. 

“At first, you seemed like a lonely man, starved for attention. Easy target. After a while though, I…I don’t know. I was just drawn to you. I guess deep down, I hoped a saint like you could help deliver me to the goddess or something. I don’t know. It was foolish,” Byleth admitted, struggling to find the right words to say. 

“Oh…” Seteth, like he found was the case so often in her presence, was at a loss for words. 

“Anyway, bottom line? Demons must derive their energy in the same manner they lived in order to stay sane, and alive. I’ve seen others fall to madness when they neglect their survival measures. As for how _I_ survive, I’m sure you’ve gotten the hint by now,” Byleth said, as Seteth tugged on his collar. 

“And don’t worry. Even if you love me just for tonight, I won’t kill you or eat your soul or whatever,” she chuckled, dragging herself out of the bed.

Love. Seteth wasn’t sure if he quite knew how to anymore, but he certainly could try. He counted himself a lucky man as Byleth took the lead, expertly stripping him bare. 

“This...we needn’t be so hasty, you know,” he said bashfully. His face was on fire. 

“If that’s what you want, I’d be happy to slow down. But something tells me you’re just saying that,” Byleth responded, lifting her shirt over her head. “So, which is it?”

“I…” he suddenly couldn’t form a coherent sentence. 

“Stop or go, Cichol. It’s as simple as that,” she said in a sweet, soft voice. 

“Go.” 

Like she had anticipated the moment her entire life, Byleth dropped to her knees, taking him in hand. She ran her hands up and down the shaft several times, brushing her thumb over the tip-as if becoming acquainted with it. Seteth sucked in through his teeth-the years he spent alone left him sensitive to every touch. He looked down, drinking in the beauty before him. He caught the slightest smirk on her face before she opened her mouth and enveloped him entirely. Seteth let out a choked moan as her soft lips dragged up and down his length.

Her pace was fast and exhilarating as she wasted no time taking his member all the way to the back of her throat. It was wet and warm, and the way she looked up at him with eyes moistened with the first droplets of tears did nothing to help him maintain his composure. She bobbed her head up and down earnestly, servicing him with an expertise Seteth had never experienced before. She hummed softly around him, letting her eyes flutter shut-she was putting on a show for him. Saliva dribbled down her chin lewdly as she picked up the pace, gazing back up at him with glossy yellow eyes. She was akin to a starved animal-devouring him, savoring him. 

As desperately as he wanted it to continue, Seteth was at his limit. Releasing himself without warning, Byleth moaned quietly as she sucked through his climax. Panting wildly, Seteth watched, mesmerized, as she swallowed every last drop of his semen. She was pushing him further and further to the edge. 

Byleth stood up, wiping cum and spit from her chin with the back of her hand. Seteth admired how her puffy lips were outshined only by her eyes, now suddenly bright and glowing. 

“I hope that’s not all you’ve got. We’re not close to being done,” Byleth said. 

“Do your worst,” Seteth quipped back, letting himself be led to the bed. 

Once, Seteth had begged the goddess to deliver him from temptation. He had yet to discover that submission to desire was her answer to his prayers, his absolution from the earthly woes that plagued him. 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize I have not updated any fics in like. 2 months. and this one it has been like...3 months. I apologize and no hard feelings at all if you stopped caring HAHA.   
> OBVI THIS IS GRATUITOUSLY EXPLICIT LOL.

* * *

Seteth’s heart raced with boyish excitement as his head hit the pillow, Byleth climbing atop him. Beholding her body hovering over him, he felt himself spring to life once more. It was a relief for him that the years had not dulled his stamina. She repositioned herself, and looked down on Seteth’s flushed face. 

“Worship me,” she commanded, taking her seat.

He was taken by surprise as her thighs squeezed either side of his skull, his nose against her core. Nervously, he licked experimentally across her folds, already slick and wet. 

“Mm, that’s good…” she whispered, encouraging him. “If you do well, I’ll reward you.” 

“Is that so? Would you really deny me either way?” Seteth replied.

“Would you really like to find out if I would?” she quipped back with a devilish smirk. 

Electing to abandon inhibition, he ate her hungrily, paying no mind to the spit and slick dirtying his face. His experience with such an activity was admittedly lacking, so he was glad to see that she seemed to be enjoying herself.

But it didn’t last long, as she was in no mood to take things slow. Aligning her entrance with his cock, she slammed herself down, taking all of him inside her. His exceptional virtue of restraint was particularly useful as he held himself back from orgasming immediately, letting out a gasp. 

“So full,” Byleth moaned, placing her hands on his chest as leverage as she bounced up and down. 

Seteth squeezed his eyes shut, his arms stiff at his sides. How humiliating it would be, he thought, to let himself go too quickly. Though he had seen many years pass, bedding her was an entirely new experience. The sight of her lifting herself up and down, petite hands moving to hold her own breasts, gasping and moaning for only him to listen to-it was a dangerous thing to grow addicted to. He stiffened as her palm came to rest on his cheek. 

“Please open your eyes. Look what you’re doing to me,” Byleth pleaded. His eyes immediately looked between her legs; he shivered as he watched himself spread her open, slick coating her inner thighs. 

“Oh, have mercy…” he whispered under his breath. “Byleth, I’m about to-“ 

“It’s okay. I’ll take it all. You don’t have to hold back with me,” she said alluringly. 

That was all the encouragement he needed as he came hard inside her. Byleth sighed contentedly as his member continued to twitch inside her.

“That was great. But... I feel like you’re holding something back,” Byleth said, speaking as though his semen were not dripping down her thighs as she continued to hover above him.

“And what could I _possibly_ be holding back?” replied Seteth breathlessly. 

“Hm. I don’t know, I guess. I suppose I don’t understand why you’re just laying there, letting it happen.” There was a shift in her voice. 

“I-“

“Don’t you want to take me? If I am not mistaken, this is the only chance we will ever have. I know you think everyone expects you to put on that mask of piety and soft-spokenness, but I don’t. I _know_ there has to be some part of you that wishes to take the lead. No one is watching you here, Cichol,” she continued, reaching down to push back his tousled hair. She ran her hand across his pointed ear.

Each word, each touch nudged Seteth closer to his breaking point. He had already strayed this far. If she wanted to see him come undone, what did he have to lose by obliging her?

“Very well then.” 

He flipped their positions. Byleth looked shocked, but excited. If only she could have seen the strength he used to possess when he was still able to assume his true form.

Hiking her legs up by her thighs, Seteth placed her ankles over his shoulders, mounting and entering her with a rough thrust. He relished in the sweet sound that escaped her parted lips. 

“Oh, Cichol!” she cried as he angled himself for his thrusts to hit deeper. 

“Is that a prayer for me? Is that why my name is upon your tongue?” he said breathlessly as he fucked her. 

She only answered in whiny, breathless gasps. The single strip of moonlight squeezing in through the window cascaded across her flushed, sweaty face. Her eyes were bright and glossy as she reached between her legs to stroke herself. The world around him had convinced Seteth that she was a demon, but he could have swore that instead a goddess lay beneath him. 

The air smelled of sex, and the only sounds in the cottage were that of breathless moans and skin meeting skin. It rendered the hut anything but holy-yet they were perhaps offering the highest form of worship to each other. 

“I-I am reaching my…” Seteth couldn’t finish his sentence before he orgasmed, burying himself to the hilt and cumming inside her. He thought he heard her whisper “Cichol” once more as he slumped over next to her. 

“I gotta say…” Byleth started, breaking the moments of silence as they both tried to catch their breath. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” 

“Nonsense. Of course you did. Else you would have not wasted your time with me,” Seteth countered, chuckling. 

“That’s not true. There was always something different about you. I can’t explain it, but it was more than seeking sustenance with you,” she blurted out. Seteth turned to lay on his side, facing her. 

“Is that so? Do elaborate,” he said. He took note of Byleth’s appearance- the pallid color of her face was replaced with a vibrant glow, the dark circles under her eyes nonexistent. Her needs had been met, yet still she remained with him. 

“I don’t know. Please, forget I said anything,” she insisted. 

“Well, I cannot force you,” he said. “But whatever is on your mind, you shall find no judgment from me.” 

She seemed to chew on his words. 

“That’s it, I think. What you just said,” she declared finally. 

“What?” Seteth was confused.

“‘I shall find no judgment from you’. But isn’t that kind of your job? You’re an authority at the church,” Byleth said. 

“I wouldn’t say so, no. My duty is simply to assist the archbishop and live in a way the goddess would have wanted me to,” Seteth replied. 

“Well, there seems to be a little dispute about what the goddess would have actually wanted. All I have seen from those affiliated with the church is judgment and persecution,” she continued. 

“I am aware that there are some more...passionate members of the faith,” Seteth said. “But some demons have posed a real threat, too. Some of the church’s concerns have not been completely baseless.” 

“I’m not denying that. I usually keep my distance, but I’ve seen so many others like me fail to sustain themselves. That’s when they lose their remaining humanity. At that point, they’re akin to animals,” Byleth explained. 

“I see…” Seteth did not know what to say. 

“I suppose I take more offense to the claims that we became demons as a punishment from the goddess. What would she be punishing us for? Why do we pay so much reverence to a goddess that’s supposedly vengeful and unforgiving?” Byleth said passionately. 

“The goddess is far from unforgiving. Her teachings encourage us to practice kindness, modesty, patience, and forgiveness,” Seteth corrected her. The blurry image of Sothis’s faceless visage from his memory surfaced in the back of his mind. 

“Yours is an uncommon opinion within the church,” she said. 

“Then perhaps that is something that I should aim to change,” Seteth said. 

“Perhaps so. It’s funny. You seemed to be so terrified of me in the beginning. As though every time you looked at me you were damning yourself further and further,” Byleth mused. 

“I believe I’ve simply realized since then what the goddess expects of me, and what others try to convince me that she expects,” he said.

There were still so many questions Seteth wanted to ask as the first peek of dawn’s sun showed itself. What has she been like in her past life? What had become of her past lover? He feared they would never be answered. 

“I...I should probably depart soon,” Seteth said hesitantly. 

“Please! Just…stay with me a moment longer, okay?” the desperation in Byleth’s voice was foreign, and caught Seteth so off guard that his heart had no choice but to oblige. 

She reached her arms out, coaxing him into her arms. Her embrace was surprisingly warm, and he melted into her instantly. He panicked as he felt sleep overtake him-he would be late back to the monastery, and Rhea would send a search party after him. But the urgency of such thoughts did little to pull him from the trance of peace Byleth offered him. As he nestled his head against her still-bare chest, he noticed there was no heartbeat to lull him to sleep. 

* * *

Seteth awoke with a start in his own bed. Had the previous night been a dream? He was still unclothed. His eyes darted wildly around. 

A note on the bedside table. 

> _“Figured I’d save you an exhausting trip. Thanks for everything. May we meet again someday.”_
> 
> _-By_

He clutched the note close to his chest. It wasn’t a dream. 

_It wasn’t a dream._

A sickening wave of guilt washed over him, accompanied by an equally intense sadness. For someone of his position to fraternize so carelessly with someone unknown. He might as well have spit on the graves of both his late wife _and_ mother. A shuddering sob shook his body, his mind bombarded by visions of his departed wife. She was disappointed, her saddened expression ripping his heart in two. 

Sothis accompanied her mournful gaze, her face replaced with Rhea’s judgmental stare. 

“Please, forgive me,” he pleaded to them. 

“Seteth.” 

He opened his eyes, and found no one. Whose voice was that?

What could he do to ease his feelings of awfulness?

He did what he knew best how to do-he prayed. To whom in particular, he didn’t know. But he prayed for absolution from the guilt he had allowed to consume him for far too long. Guilt for failing to protect his wife, for barely succeeding to protect their daughter, for being complacent in the erasure of their Nabatean history, for wanting to lead his life in the way he saw fit, and for wanting to find a companion to soothe his loneliness. 

Was it truly okay to move on? He could not count the years that had passed if he tried. Was someone like him, who had a lifetime’s worth of failures under his belt, worthy of happiness? 

Happiness. What would make him happy? _Truly_ happy?

He first thought of Flayn. His sweet Cethleann, his reason for enduring the long years. He loved her dearly, but something about her seemed otherworldly and pure. She was perfect, and to trouble her with his burdens would be sinful. He was the parent, and she was the child, and he intended to keep it that way-no matter how the world saw them. 

Cethleann sustained him. But what he was missing from his life was partnership, companionship. 

“To my goddess, who watches from her kingdom above...Mother…if there is truly still some part of you that lingers on this earth, I beg of you-let me be with her. Your power was often beyond my comprehension, but I witnessed the miracles you were capable of. What good are my endless years if I spend them yearning for someone to share them with?” Seteth prayed to the heavens as hard as he could. 

When his words were met with silence, resignation and embarrassment awashed him. Of course his prayers would yield nothing. Sothis was long dead, and to beseech her would fall on deaf ears. 

It was time to start the day. 

* * *

_A familiar face. Eyes aglow with the flames of life, her presence radiating warmth and love._

_Sothis. The one he called “Mother”, who breathed life into people and nature alike, smiled at him._

_“You could do so much more with your boundless power, Mother,” he remembers saying to her once upon a time. “Why do you hold yourself back?”_

_“Everything comes at a price, Cichol. I am not perfect. If there ever comes a time where I am forced to use the full extent of my power, I will suffer consequences,” Sothis explained._

_A dream, or a memory?_

* * *

Seteth awoke the next morning before the sun signaled the coming of dawn. A terrible backache plagued him, and he felt more tired than usual. 

In the looking glass, his eyes widened. 

Slight wrinkles that weren’t there the day before decorated his face. His green hair was speckled with a few thin silvery strands. He felt as though he had aged a millennium. 

His first impulse was to run to the cathedral. The morning sun had not yet showed itself, so he donned a cloak and snuck out of his quarters. 

He couldn’t help but peek through Flayn’s cracked door. She was sound asleep, her hair a mess, clutching a stuffed fish toy to her chest. Her mouth hung open in her slumber, a small spot of drool on her pillow. Seteth couldn’t help but smile, and he tiptoed quietly out the door. 

~~~~

There were no services scheduled for several hours, so the cathedral was hauntingly empty. Seteth strode past the pews and directly to the altar. The reflection he no longer recognized stared back at him in the silver adornments on the table. 

He didn’t know what he sought in the sanctuary of the cathedral that he could not seek anywhere else. Perhaps comfort was all he was looking for. Comfort, in the face of coming to terms with his new reality. 

“I have aged, Mother. As if I were...human,” Seteth addressed the goddess, although he was not exactly praying. “Are you punishing me? Cursing me with the lifespan of a human for how far away I’ve strayed from your path?” 

No answer.

“...Though I suppose it is well deserved. I’ve let you down. And I’ve no doubt disgraced the mother of my child, as well,” Seteth mused. The church remained silent. Had he any tears left, he would have felt like weeping.

The heavy doors of the cathedral opened. Brisk footsteps against the stone echoed hollowly. 

What greeted him when he turned around was a familiar face. Byleth, dressed simply in a white frock. Her hair was dark blue, her skin bright and aglow. Seteth felt a shockwave in his stomach-joy, shock, bewilderment. Her appearance was no longer that of an otherworldly being. The woman who stepped through the church pews was undoubtedly human. 

She stood right in front of him. Her eyes were blue like her hair. There was a unique beauty to be found in the blemishes and imperfections on her face.

“Byleth.” It was all he could think to say. 

“Hello, Seteth,” she replied. 

“I don’t understand, I-”

“Neither do I,” she said, interrupting him. “And looking at you now just has me more confused.” 

She no doubt referred to his newfound signs of aging. 

“Perhaps. None of it makes sense to me…” he said, unable to tear his eyes away from the depths of her own dark blues. 

“I suppose it matters not. Fate is irrefutable, is it not?” Byleth said. Her voice was melodic and sweet; it felt like home.

“There was a time that I would agree with you. Now, I am not so sure,” he replied.

“How poetic,” Byleth teased, and Seteth couldn’t help but grin.

He thought of Cethleann, and mourned the countless years of her life he would not be around to see, had he truly lost his Nabatean lifespan. There was no taking back his wish-and he resolved to find solace in knowing how many people loved her within the monastery. Wherever her path would lead her, he was certain she would not walk it alone.

“What of the others like you?” Seteth asked. 

“I don't know. Perhaps that is a problem we can tackle together,” Byleth said, the faintest smile tugging at her lips.

“Perhaps, indeed,” Seteth replied.

“So, in any case-I need to make myself useful. Are the Knights looking to recruit?” Byleth said playfully, rolling up her sleeves. 

“No. But I hear there’s an open teaching position at the Officer’s Academy,” said Seteth, imagining Sothis’s serene face in the stained glass window for just a brief moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOO thus concludes my little brainworm and...yeah kind of a bittersweet ending. I wanted this fic to be a short little piece also Re: that one tweet that's like "It's my AU, and I get to choose which aspects of canon I get to keep!"  
> Lol all jokes aside, hope to see y'all again soon ty for reading!


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